Scattered Fates, Ram Garikipati [black male authors TXT] 📗

on a small patch of grass and three young girls with cheap plastic dolls in their hands were chatting underneath a tree.

He sat down on a wooden bench in the shade and watched the hockey match in progress. Most of the kids were barefooted and only a few had proper hockey clubs, the rest were holding out stubs of palm leaves, but that hardly dampened their spirits and they were having the time of their lives.

Children are so innocent. They do not burden their heads with trivial matters like caste, religion or language. It is only after they grow up that they start differentiating their friends.

Moon suddenly missed his childhood in Masan, playing jegichagi with friends. Actually, the day his parents died in the demonstration against the government, he had been busy playing with his friends on the school grounds. Just like these kids here, he had not concerned himself with the agitation against President Rhee and the violence that followed.

His mind wandered to his childhood days and his sudden relocation to Seoul at the tender age of fifteen. His mother’s brother had been kind enough to provide him shelter, but was too poor to pay for his education. Moon had to do odd jobs and saved enough money to complete his education. Luckily he got a scholarship to study at Seoul National University, which finally brought him for a year to Madras.

Now with the agitation getting stronger, he was afraid he would have to return back to Seoul midway.

There were only two things that worried him now. Getting back to Seoul at the earliest, and transferring to another foreign university for his exchange program.

He was slowly recovering from the injuries suffered during the stampede, but his cast could only be taken off after he returns home.

This time I will try to go to a university closer home, maybe China or Japan. At least our culture, food and climate are the same. My mistake, I should have made friends with the Chinese and Japanese here, they seemed cordial and would have guided me. It is always a mistake to carry over the historical legacy of mistrust when we are dealing with people.

He was still lost in thoughts, when a child’s voice called out for his attention.

‘Uncle, are you from China?’

A small girl in ponytails was staring at him.

He smiled and without realizing why, he lied, ‘No, I am from Nagaland.’

‘Is it close to Japan?’ she asked.

‘No, it is in India. I am also Indian like you.’

‘You cannot be. You look so different from us. My mother said that if you lie you go to narak.’

‘Where are you from?’ he asked, realizing that she had fair skin.

‘I am from Punjab, my papa is a professor here.’

‘You look different from Tamilians, but you are also Indian,’ he said.

‘That is true,’ she said and ran away.

‘It is not just kids; even older people don't consider people from Nagaland as Indians because of their Mongolian features. I wonder how many years it will take from Indians to recognize them as their own countrymen?’ he thought, remembering the stories of discrimination that his friend Andy had narrated.

He got up from the bench and decided to walk for a while before going back home. His body needed more exercise, and the faster he recovered, the greater his chances of returning to Corea.

A brisk thirty minutes walk later he was back on the patio, drying his sweat.

Seeing him, Ganapathy came out of his house. ‘So you decided to get some fresh air?’ he shouted out.

‘Yes, I wanted some exercise so my body can recover. I hope to return to Corea as soon as possible.’

‘Worried, eh? You should be. I just got a call from Damodaran. The situation is getting worse. More South Indian colonies have been attacked. He estimates that around 200 people have been killed, but there is no curfew, mobs are free to roam around with swords and knives. A few South Indian temples have also been destroyed.’ Ganapathy paced himself towards Moon.

‘How can the government allow it?’

‘That is their way of controlling the agitation here. They do not realize that it could boomerang once the information becomes public. It is bound to slip out, many people have telephones here.’

‘What about the situation in Madras? We have no information, although we are in the center of the city.’

‘A few friends called me and said that the violence is continuing. Many government buildings have been burnt, and buses are off the roads, but luckily the train service is still running. Fourteen people have immolated themselves in front of Fort St. George.’

‘Sir, I can never understand this concept of self-immolation as a form of protest.’

‘I thought it is very common in East Asia. Buddhist monks have been immolating themselves for centuries. It is only recently that the western media has caught on to this concept, after Buddhist monk Thich Quang Duc immolating himself in protest of the Vietnamese Ngo Dinh Diem regime in 1963.’

‘It is not common in Corea. No one immolated themselves during the April Revolution.’

‘I thought Buddhism was a prominent religion in your country. Wait...I get it, self-immolation is tolerated by some elements of Mahayana Buddhism and Hinduism, but Corea must be having Theravada Buddhists.’

‘No, we also follow Mahayana Buddhism. That is why I am surprised.’

‘Well, then maybe it has something to do with the intensity of political repression in the countries where the victims don't mind immolating themselves. Like so many things in the world, this also cannot be easily explained,’ Ganapathy said. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to remind you to get Subbaiah over to our house for dinner tonight.’

‘I will sir, but I have no idea when he will turn up. Sometimes he comes with guests.’

‘That is fine we will have our dinner on schedule. Vijaylaxmi can heat up the food for Subbaiah. She will also pack some extra food for his guests, if need be.’

#

Subbaiah slipped in alone through the backdoor unnoticed at around nine. It helped that earth’s natural satellite was hiding behind some clouds.

Moon was closeted in the living room, having closed all the windows and the front door to keep the mosquitoes out. He had made the mistake of keeping a window open at sunset the previous day and had a terrible time with mosquitoes who sneaked in for their meal. He had just switched off the radio and was trying to read his book in the dim glow of the incandescent light bulb.

Subbaiah peeked at him from the dark kitchen, and realizing the coast was clear, whistled softly. Moon saw him, and as if on cue, shut off the lights and lit a candle.

‘How was your day? Any more policemen came sniffing around for me?’

‘No sir, but I have a lot of new information. Professor Ganapathy is not a government spy and wants to actually join your movement,’ Moon replied.

He gave a vivid account of the day's developments, wrapping it up with details of the revenge killings in Delhi.

‘We have to be careful. It could be just a ruse to get me over to his place. Did you notice anyone going to his house in the evening?’

‘No sir, I came inside at six thirty because of the mosquitoes. I did not hear any vehicles.’

‘They could have parked it at the entrance and walked here. I know Ganapathy is a good friend, but when it comes to caste matters, one never knows what he will be forced to do. Community ties are stronger than friendships in this part of the country.’

‘Do you mean to say that he may deceive you and get you arrested? That seems unlikely, he was genuinely concerned.’

‘You may be right, but I do not want to take any chances. Please go ahead of me and see if there is anyone in his house. If you notice anything suspicious, make an excuse and come back here. I will give ten minutes and then follow you.’

‘What should I tell them?’

‘Say that I am taking a bath now, and sent you ahead to get the food heated, I am feeling very hungry.’

Moon closed the front door behind him as Subbaiah slipped into the bathroom, and approached Ganapathy's house, straining his ears to catch any new voices in the silence of the night. Subbaiah's caution was unfounded, as there was no one in the house, except for the couple.

After he delivered his excuse for coming alone, Vijaylaxmi went into the kitchen, while Ganapathy told him to take a seat.

‘Sir, did you get any more calls from your brother-in-law?’

‘No, he was supposed to call me an hour ago. We are getting slightly worried. In the last call he mentioned that many of his neighbors had left for their hometowns.’

‘Professor Subbaiah may have more information on the situation here. He appeared to be more relaxed than yesterday.’

‘Then I guess Anna has managed to get more support from other sections of the society. I only hope he consolidates his position before more innocent lives are lost.’

The news that Subbaiah shared over dinner was indeed positive for the movement.

There was an outpouring of anger in all the four southern states and people were taking to the streets with the backing of the local police and some sections of the army. The rank and file of the Madras Regiment had deserted with their arms and ammunitions, but many of the officers who were from North India still remained loyal. Anna had convinced a few South Indian officers to break away and command the deserters. A sort of amateur local army was in the works. Now, the South Indians in the Air Force and Navy had to be worked on.

Frequent clashes were taking place between anti and pro Hindi supporters, with the former outnumbering the latter. This would decidedly change once the rest of the army units made their way south.

Many of the Congress politicians from the southern states had pledged their support secretly, with the intention of protecting their assets, and those who did not, fled to Delhi. The country was slowly getting polarized, but surprisingly none of the other non-Hindi speaking states had shown any inclination to join the agitation. They were still holding on their sense of patriotism. The next few days were crucial for the movement.

More importantly, the international community was now starting to get involved. The United States, United Kingdom and France had called for restraint. There were still no official statements from the Soviet Union and China. Wanting to take advantage of the situation, a few Pakistani intelligence agents had made informal contact with Anna's core group to offer arms and ammunition. Realizing it was an opportunistic move Anna refused, despite opposition from some party members who argued that they did not care what happened to Kashmir.

‘Do you think the international pressure will work?’ Moon asked.

‘Not unless Soviet Union and China pile up pressure on Indira,’ Subbaiah replied. ‘Ganapathy, I appreciate your offer to rally the Tamil Brahmins behind our movement. If your community openly supports Anna, it will give us confidence.’

‘I am afraid open support may be difficult right now. Moon may have told you about today's visitors from the temple.’

‘Yes, he told me. I hope your friends can work out some solution. He also told me the information that you got from Damodaran, that many South Indians in Delhi are being targeted; I am sure the North Indian attackers don't differentiate between Brahmins and non-Brahmins. Your community is also a victim here, and the only way out is to join us.’

‘I will speak to Inspector Bala who is helping me in this mission. By the way I spoke to him on the phone after lunch, you can stay back here, no one will come to arrest you.’

‘It is a big relief, but I may have to sneak out once a while to my party headquarters.’

‘I insist that you and Moon come here for your meals everyday. That is the least I can do to help you in this difficult time,’ Vijaylaxmi said. ‘I have been doing a